


Bruises and Bitemarks

by Riddleisourking



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Car Accidents, M/M, Mpreg Eventually, Zombie Apocalypse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-29
Updated: 2018-06-28
Packaged: 2019-05-30 04:11:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15088706
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Riddleisourking/pseuds/Riddleisourking
Summary: Nobody knows its origin, nobody knows how it even came to be, but zombies were filling the world quickly. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. So…. why is Keith hiding with this brunet alpha?





	Bruises and Bitemarks

**Author's Note:**

> Alright, we're trying this AU out and if anyone ends up liking it, we will continue this

Colors exploded behind his eyes and he gasps on reflex, his body surging upwards as if his soul had just been forced back into his body by an invisible deity. His fingers clenched involuntarily and curled around a disk of metal nearest to him. He ran a digit over it, tracing it slowly. It didn't fit into any memory that he had- come to think of it, he couldn't even remember what had happened.

The last thing that he remembered was eating breakfast that morning in his log cabin in the woods. Eggs, sunny-side up, and bacon. There was a news report- a news report…

An electric shot of pain hit him all at once in less than a second, it expanded over his abdomen, left side of his chest, his head, his right arm, and his ankle. Darkness pressed into his eyes for all of two seconds, the pain was just that excruciating.

He pressed his one good hand against the ground, forcing himself up and against a tree in a sitting position. His eyes acclimated and blurriness dissipated as he gazed over the scene in front of him.

A woman with dark, tangled hair laid to his right, her torso positioned in such an inhuman way that chills ran through his body. Her chest was facing the ground, but her back laid in a crumpled, heap on her side somehow. In all his years of binging Grey's Anatomy and Scrubs, he could definitively say that her back was definitely fucked.

Across from her and two to three feet away, an older man with greying, balding hair laid on his back, mouth frozen permanently into a loose scowl and eyes staring unseeing at the sky. A piece of rebar had made its home in his skull, most likely the cause of his death.

His brain pounded against his skull and white spots shot through in vision as he forced himself to look in the other direction. A hot surge of heat and shock hit him in retaliation and his hand flew across to guard the left of his rib cage where the main source of the pain beated.

From this position, he could crane his head down and a low, dull pop welcomed the motion just as red- big, globs and spurts of red met his vision. Where was it even coming from? What had even happened?

He released his hold on his rib cage, ignoring hot spikes of pain and searched rapidly across his body- 

“U-urgh!” White spots flew across his vision once more and he gripped the injury tightly, pressing down on it as hard as he could.

With his injured hand, he grabbed at his coat and wound it tight over his thigh. Most of the blood stopped then and he swallowed, closing his eyes- wait… He swallows again, this time louder, only he couldn't hear his own swallow. Shivers race down his back and he steeled himself, preparing and-

“U-uhn.” He tried, but not a sound reached his ears.

Panic was beginning to flood through him, starting in his chest and reaching his fingertips in minutes, along with a cold chill of dread. He slapped at his ears in alarm and only pain erupted in response. He couldn't hear a thing; something had to be wrong with his ears. Hopefully, it was only temporary. If it wasn’t-

1…  
2…  
3…

He counted to five slowly in his head, pushing his panic far down inside of him. He needed to evaluate his situation, there was no time for him to panic yet. He closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing as it returned to normal, then he looked to his left finally.

A red Toyota Camry had been reared in the back beyond recognition and the other, a larger white Ford Focus had the windshield shattered and two distinct holes in it. The door to the Camry was open and he blinked as he followed a trail of blood to his exact location. At some point, he must have dragged himself out.

He gripped the grill of the closest car, hoisting himself up even as his vision blurred from the sharp pangs that were coming from his ribs and now his head. The tree line loomed ominously as he looked around the carnage of the scene. Bushes were trampled and trees dented, from the looks of it- after he was hit- he and the other vehicle veered off of the road and ended up here, in a ditch.

Without a car, he wouldn't be getting too far on the road and because of the size of the ditch- he approximated it to be fifteen feet high- he would need to do some impressive climbing, the kind that he couldn't afford to do without falling back down. So, that left him with having to adventure into the woods and hope for a kinder slope.

He could feel eyes on him, watching him, waiting… He turned on his heel sharply, fists coming up to defend against the threat. 

A man with dark blue eyes, light brown hair shaped into a style that closely resembled a rat’s nest faced him, holding a silver gun between strong, steady hands. They had at least an inch or two of a height difference and the man currently had the upper hand, especially because of injured he was.

He waits, and waits, and waits.  
Nothing was happening, blue eyes were locked on his own and only then did he finally glance down to his bow-shaped lips. They were moving but he couldn’t hear anything, it was completely silent on his own end.

Glancing back up, the brunet was beginning to show signs of irritation, visible by the pinch of his brow and scowl on his lips. He licked his own and brought a hand up slowly- immediately drawing the attention back to his hands, the man spat something out but he continued and gestured to his ears.

It took a moment but realization dawned on him. Suddenly, the brunet walked towards him, gun lowered. As he approached, he checked over the rest of the victims. Silently, he knelt down next to him, moving and turning his head in his hands. His lips moved again once his vision was able to focus on his face once more. The brunet picked him up, holding him close. Aside from the scent of burnt rubber, blood, and car fluids, the sweet scent of cologne and homemade pie wafted around.

Alpha.

He could register this much at the very least, but now that he was relieved of the pain mostly, his head was daze of confusion and his limbs felt too heavy to move. Which, unfortunately left him handicapped in the brunet’s gangly arms. In a different situation, he’d be fighting the stranger’s touch and help, but for now, he allowed himself to sink back into unconsciousness.


End file.
